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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25589107">Bubble Guts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderBunnBunn/pseuds/CommanderBunnBunn'>CommanderBunnBunn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Knowing the weirdly intimate things about your platonic partner [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>MacGyver (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bromance, Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Parental Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), bubble guts, gastrointestinal distress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:48:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25589107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderBunnBunn/pseuds/CommanderBunnBunn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack knows the garlic sauce that gives Mac the bubble guts. Warning for bad words.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Knowing the weirdly intimate things about your platonic partner [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bubble Guts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the first Cairo Day after the infamous Cairo incident, Mac and Jack sat around Mac’s house, doing nothing at all in paralyzing fear of that anything that could go wrong would go wrong. Mac got up to make toast, but Jack stopped him, “with our luck, the old crumbs in the toaster will start a fire and burn your whole house down. No toaster.”</p><p>“Well what are we supposed to eat then?” Mac pouted.</p><p>“We will order pizza. Delivery. I don’t want to run the risk of wrecking one of our vehicles or causing bodily harm by driving somewhere.”</p><p>Mac rolled his eyes, “alright then. Make the call. But you’re forgetting the fact that the cheese could be spoiled, the meat could be tainted, the tomato sauce soured.”</p><p>Jack kicked at the coffee table, suddenly thankful he didn’t make contact and break his toe, “dammit, man, now you’ve ruined my appetite for pizza too.”</p><p>“It’s ok, Jack. Cooking the pizza in a 425 degree brick oven and having working nose will take care of most foodborne pathogens. Have you ever gotten food poisoning from pizza?”</p><p>“This would be the time it happens. It’s Cairo Day.” was Jack’s melodramatic reply.</p><p>“Will you just order the pizza, Jack. Stop being so superstitious. Oh, and some wings too.” </p><p>“No, no. We’re not going out choking on a chicken bone like Mama Cass.” </p><p>“Jack,” he stretched out the vowel sound in a scolding manner, “that’s not how Mama Cass…”</p><p>Jack interrupted the correction, “ok then no ham sandwiches either.”</p><p>“Jack,” Mac’s tone matched that of a scolding parent, “the internet has debunked all those old folk tales from your childhood. Update your information.”</p><p>“I can’t help it, the only way we had to get information was by word of mouth, and once you got an interesting little tidbit of information, it stuck with you for life whether it was true or not. It’s not like I had a limitless resource in the palm of my hand to write my book reports for me like you did.” he paused for a moment, “I’ll get boneless wings. Hot honey mustard, barbecue, or paralyze your tastebuds hot?”</p><p>“How about mild with a side of carrot sticks.”</p><p>“Choking hazard. No hot dogs, no bones, no carrots or apples.” </p><p>“Jack,” he exhaled, “we’re not toddlers.”</p><p>Jack groaned with reluctant acceptance and pulled out his phone relaying the order, “ok, carrot sticks, boneless wings, and we’ll do half mild and half hot honey mustard.” </p><p>“Don’t forget the pizza.” Mac called out. </p><p>No one died or choked or slipped on wet floors or got held up at gunpoint or got caught in a zipper. It was a completely uneventful and downright boring first Cairo Day, just like it should have been. </p><p> </p><p>******</p><p>The stakes were upped slightly for the second Cairo Day. As superstitious as Jack was, boredom turned him into a petulant child. After being cooped up all day the previous year, Jack planned for an uneventful outdoor Cairo Day. </p><p>Jack’s intention was a pleasant outdoor hike, across very flat terrain. No mountains to fall down, still within civilization so their cell phones work in case of emergency, plenty of sunscreen.</p><p>In an over-abundance of caution, Jack packed absolutely anything and everything they may need in an emergency. </p><p>Verbally running down his checklist to make sure he didn’t forget anything, Jack was finishing up his scenario/solution list. “Epipen in case one of us develops a sudden allergy to anything. Air cast for sprained or twisted ankle. Sat phone in case our phones can’t reach the cell towers for some ungodly apocalyptic reason. Protein snacks in case we’re stranded or lost. Paper map of the trail so we don’t get lost. Axe in case of zombies...”</p><p>Mac waved off Jack’s <i>over-prepared parent on their first excusion out with a newborn</i> routine. “Ok, ok, Jack. You’re completely prepared for absolutely any worst case scenario we could encounter on the very flat very public walking trail in a well populated area. But you’re going to look really silly and probably hurt your back carrying that 30 pound gigantic backpack.”</p><p>“Boy, I carried more than this every day  watching your ass in the sandbox. I can handle it. Plus I brought a second pack so you could carry half of the load in case I do manage to somehow wrench my back or aggravate some old injury.”</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p>On the way to the trail, the heartburn inducing fare of the previous year was passed up in favor of something on theme with the “holiday.”</p><p>“I’ve always wanted to try this place,” Mac added as they got out of the Jeep and walked toward the doors.</p><p>“I figured it would be appropro to engage in foods from the Fertile Crescent to celebrate our surviving yet another Cairo Day.”</p><p>“It’s noon, we’re only halfway through the day.” Mac said in a comically ominous voice.</p><p>“On the contrary, brother, they're nine hours ahead and almost through with this day.”</p><p>“Point taken.” </p><p>The lunch was delicious with flavors and seasonings they didn’t normally experience outside of travel and special occasions. They kept it light so as not to be weighed down on their nature hike with a promise to stop by on the way back home to take some back to Bozer for a full dinner. The menu featured a feed-a-family feast that included a taste from every represented culture in that region, the Mesopo-table-ia. The awful wordplay was sure to get a chuckle out of Mac's roommate.</p><p>They parked the Jeep at the trailhead, pack loaded and water bottles in hand, they set on their 3.4 mile hike through nature. </p><p>At mile 3.2, Jack heard a disturbing noise. “Did you just hear a wolf growl?” He asked Mac.</p><p>“No, you’re just looking for something to go wrong.” Mac played like he didn’t also hear that sound. The day was clear and beautiful with a calm and cooling breeze, it couldn’t have been any more perfect.</p><p>The end of the trail was marked with a small nature center, a place for a photo op, and a map to offer facts about notable sights to check out on the trek back to the trailhead.</p><p>Mac had a seat on the bench and Jack snapped a picture over his shoulder, getting himself and Mac in the shot.</p><p>“Hey hoss, you look like shit. I know you run more than this when it’s 90 degrees outside.You ok? I don’t think I’ve seen you sweat that much outside of a marathon.”</p><p>“I’m good,” Mac panted, “heavy lunch I guess.” </p><p>Jack startled at the same growl he’d heard earlier and saw Mac fold over at the waist.</p><p>“Um, that was...loud. You sure you ok?”</p><p>“Yeah,” was Mac’s panting reply as he sat back up and dabbed the sweat from his forehead by pulling his t-shirt up. “I’m good. Let’s get back.” He took a pull from his water bottle, emptying it before Jack had even finished half of his.</p><p>“Pace yourself, Joe Camel, there’s more water in the Jeep, but it will be warm.” Jack took a small drink from his and capped it, “and if you have to take a leak before we get back, you better get way off the trail so no kids see ya’ and get your ass put on that sex offender registry forever.” Jack sensed Mac’s discomfort and kept talking, “good thing you had so much garlic that it is just whoffting off your body. The mosquitos and deep woods stinging critters wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole. That smell is just leaking out of our pores. We’re also probably safe from vampires for the rest of our lives. Worth it, though, that shit was DAMN good.”</p><p>Mac swallowed as his stomach gurgled loudly again, “Could we not talk about shit for a minute.”</p><p>Jack was surprised by Mac's sharp tone wanted clarification and to get a feel for Mac's state of mind. “You mean not talk about <i>shit</i> shit, or just not talk about shit in the proverbial sense? Like shut up, Jack, I don’t feel like talking.”</p><p>“All of the above.” Mac bent over again, elbows on his knees and hands pulling his hair back off his forehead in frustration and pain.</p><p>“Ok then.” Jack shrugged and turned back toward the trail. Mac let Jack get almost out of sight before getting up himself to start the hike back to the Jeep. He made sure all of the families and couples that were also on the trail were doing their sightseeing and not within close proximity on the path. </p><p>His stomach churned again letting out a long and furious growl. Mac’s involuntary moan followed. Luckily no one was behind him, and he got some relief from releasing a pungent air bubble.</p><p>Pleasantly surprised at the amount of discomfort that was suddenly gone, Mac felt lively enough to jog-trot to catch up to Jack. </p><p>Jack noticed his partner approach in his periphery and continued his brisk pace that matched the song he was humming. Mac couldn’t quite place the tune, but it was uptempo. </p><p>They kept their speed up for a while, Jack’s spidey sense pinging off Mac’s need to make it back sooner than later to the welcome center to take care of some business At least he looked better than he had 10 minutes prior, much less sweaty and pained. </p><p>One third of the way back, it hit him again. The long and angry grumble stopped Mac in his tracks, and he had to brace himself with one hand against a tree, breathing through the abdominal contraction. </p><p>“You need to stop?" Jack asked pointedly, "I can cover you if you need to go be a bear.”</p><p>Mac pulled his hair back with his hand again, sweat holding it slicked back in place. He shot Jack a puzzled look, half bent over to counter the ache in his gut, “be a bear?”</p><p>“You know, like the <i>does a bear shit in the woods</i> kind of thing. I have some tissues.”</p><p>Mac answered with an emphatic “No.” </p><p>“Dude, you’re clearly in pain, just do it. I’ve seen you do your business in the sandbox and bury it like a damn cat.” Jack admitted, "when you gotta go you gotta go.."</p><p>Mac paled and then blushed, “you saw that?”</p><p>“I was your overwatch, I wasn’t going to let you out of my sight in hostile territory, even at your request for privacy.” </p><p>Mac sighed and turned, squatting with his back against the tree. Jack raised an eyebrow and asked in a panicked voice, “here? Now?!” </p><p>“No, I’m just resting.” Mac cringed halfway through his sentence, gnashing his teeth until the wave of painful bloating passed.</p><p>“Ok, but if you have to go, go. It’s nothing I haven’t seen. You don’t have to be embarrassed. I mean especially after Cairo, bedpans and catheters…you changed my…”</p><p>“STOP!” Mac cut him off, “stop, talking about bodily functions.” Each word staccato with disgust. “It’s really not helping.” He stood and continued down the trail leaving Jack behind.</p><p>Jack was quickly on his heels this time singing his pace setting tune, “Devil inside. The devil inside, Every single one of us, the devil inside.”</p><p>Mac cracked the slightest smile, taking his partner’s internal jukebox selection as a declaration of solidarity. Maybe Jack was also feeling the rumble of gastrointestinal distress, but he wasn’t. He was being unintentionally patronizing, but Mac didn’t need to know that. "Hold up." Jack stopped them. "I have something that may help a little." He pulled off his pack and placed it on Mac's forearms to search the contents. He popped 2 small green pills from a foil blister pack. "GasX." Jack explained as he handed his own half full water bottle to his partner.</p><p>As they carried on, Mac could feel the urgency increasing, hoping for some quick relief from the medication soon. He no longer stopped to wait out the longer and intensifying painful spasms.  He needed to make it to the restroom sooner rather than later.</p><p>The pace increased as the welcome center appeared in view just over the horizon. It was a half mile away, but just seeing it was enough to quicken the pace, closing the distance between them and sweet relief.</p><p>A particularly abrupt and stabbing pain stopped Mac in his tracks, an involuntary moan escaping his lips. The bubbles that had been denied escape had seemingly made their way back up. The belch that erupted tasted like acid and burned like lightning and razorblades.  Mac had to exhale through his nose to keep from tasting it again. Jack patted his back in reassurance with a small circle at the end for good measure. He’d been there, everyone has been there, but there’s nothing you can do but hope that you get to a toilet in time. </p><p>Lips pulled tight and tucked between his teeth, Mac pressed on as quickly as his body would let him while maintaining the intensity of the clench holding everything inside. His steps quickened even more as he reached the threshold of the cobblestone walkway into the welcome center. The cold air conditioned burst of air blew his hair back as he opened the glass door and glided toward the public restroom. Relief was so close.</p><p>Once he got to the opening that forked into the male and female designated restrooms, he was stopped by a brick wall in the form of a thin wispy piece of yellow caution tape. A cartoon toilet with a dizzy face and water erupting from the tank announced the problem. “We’re experiencing a plubming issue. Sorry for the inconvenience.”</p><p>Mac was almost in tears, both hands yanking at his hair in frustration. Another rumble sent him doubled over in pain, afraid that his ability to contain his turmoil would be waning. </p><p>“Hnnnng.” His desperate grunt followed by an exhale of frustration and hopelessness. The goosebumps on his arms at full attention as a warning that he couldn’t hold out much longer. </p><p>Gliding back outside with his knees nearly pressed together as he walked, Jack was surprised to see him so soon after. Mac only managed to say, “broken. gas station.” and Jack knew what was up.  </p><p>Dislodging the overstuffed pack from his back, Jack moved hastily toward the Jeep, tossing his pack into the back and hopping into the driver’s seat with seamless grace. He had the clutch smashed and the shifter in reverse before Mac had even closed the door.</p><p>Jack remembered a fairly clean looking, not-so-seedy gas station about 6 miles from the trail. Mac rode low in the seat, searching for a comfortable angle to sit where it didn't exacerbate the hyperactivity in his gut. Once he was practically lying in the floorboard contorting his knees and neck so that he wasn't bent at the waist then stretched to where he was nearly standing on his knees and leaned like a wooden plank on the seat, Jack thumbed toward the back of the Jeep. "Try lying down in the back, we've got 4 minutes to our destination." Mac scrambled to the back and ended up curled in the fetal position in the back. Mac apologized silently for what was happening back there, but thankfully the Jeep was completely open and Jack preemptively cranked the music to give Mac some sense of privacy. Of course Jack thought farts were hilarious, he and Mac had their share of drunken flatulent shenanigans, but it was different when he didn't feel well; it was embarrassing to Mac, so Jack accepted it and did what he could to ease Mac’s discomfort. </p><p>Jack pulled into the parking lot, skidding parallel to the building with Mac’s door opening right in front of the restroom. Mac hopped out like he was on fire and turned the knob; the door didn't budge. He shook and rattled the door’s handle in a panic begging for it to open when he saw the sign, "restroom key at register. CUSTOMERS ONLY"</p><p>Bending over with the next wave of percolating discomfort, Mac braced himself with one hand white knuckle gripping the roll cage of the Jeep.</p><p>"I can go get the key for ya, buddy. I could use a Dr. Pepper anyway." Jack offered but Mac shook his head. </p><p>When he could finally breathe toward the end of the digestive contraction, Mac shook his head again and got back into the car, panting, "I could pick the lock or have you kick the door in if I needed to, but the restaurant is 10 minutes away, I know their bathroom works...or did two hours ago. Now that that wave has passed, I can hold out till we get there." The goosepimples on Mac’s arm were visibly flattening, returning his skin to its normal state. </p><p>Jack wasn't convinced. "Are you sure? I know we can hose out the jeep, but you don't have a clean set of clothes. I did pack extra underwear for both of us, but that ain't gonna do the trick." </p><p>The look of sheer will and determination on Mac's pale sweaty face was all the assurance Jack needed. Mac pulled his door closed and they took off. Jack drove a little faster than she should have while scrolling his phone to find the phone number for the restaurant.  He called in their to go order, the open jeep and speed made him slightly difficult to understand.  Jack spoke louder and more slowly over the wind, "yeah, I need the Mesopo-table-ia. Uh-huh, yeah well it's only 4 people, but we want to get a good variety." He nodded as if the person on the other side could see it, "and is there a particular wine you recommend or have a regional beer selection we could order too? Ok. Twenty minutes? Sounds great. Thanks."</p><p>Jack discarded the phone, tossing it into the back. "Ok hoss, you can go in and ‘get the food.’” Jack made airquotes with his fingers. “But I know how you're all ashamed of what's going on inside your body right now, so just apologize for being too early and excuse yourself to the bathroom. I'll just hang out here until you come out with the food."</p><p>Mac nodded silently, face tense with anticipation of the impending thunder to rumble within his bowels. He gripped the dash and leaned forward, exhaling a concentrated stream of breath through pursed lips. His cheeks were flush, hair a windswept yet somehow still sweaty mess. </p><p>With one hand on the wheel, Jack effortlessly unzipped and reached into his oversized pack and pulled out a baseball cap, pulling it down to Mac's brow as they pulled into the parking lot. Jack gave him a wink at his foolproof disguise, knowing that slight bit of relief that came with anonymity was comforting to Mac. </p><p>It didn't matter, but Mac felt better knowing the poor restaurant employees couldn't put a face to the person that blew up their bathroom. He'd never be able to step foot in there again from embarrassment. Of course no one would remember, hat or no, but Mac had hangups and anxiety about things like that that Jack thought were ridiculous. Jack considered that he may have also felt that way at some point, but the combination of turning forty and his team dad status somehow disabled the part of his brain where that kind of stuff mattered anymore. He also gained a talent for making terrible puns and bad jokes. </p><p>Mac tried so hard to look nonchalant as he walked into the restaurant for the second time that day, an awkward hasty shuffle through the parking lot. The heavy solid wood door shut behind him and Jack flipped through the radio channels, hunting for something to entertain himself for the next ten to fifteen minutes. He propped his crossed ankles up on the dash on the passenger side and tapped his foot to the classic rock coming from the speakers to wait for his boy. He chuckled at the cruel irony of the radio playing <i>When the Levee Breaks</i> by Led Zeppelin and hoped Mac made it to the toilet in time. </p><p>Fifteen minutes later, Mac emerged from the restaurant carrying a gigantic cardboard box containing excessive amounts of food containers and several types of beer. Jack sat up and helped guide the box into the back of the jeep. Mac hopped in, his color had returned to normal, and he looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. When Mac noticed <i>Under Pressure</i> playing through the radio, he turned to face Jack and narrowed his eyes. "Really?"</p><p>"Dude, it's not me, it's the universe." Jack waved his hand to indicate the omniscient powers that be that chose the music, "besides, I would have picked <i>Roses</i> by Outkast.”</p><p>“You do know that it’s not literally about shitting.” Mac explained with a teasing grin creeping up his lips, obviously feeling exponentially better and less embarrassed about the light hearted teasing.</p><p>“Yes, son, I’m aware of the use of idioms in music.” Jack released the brake and pressed the gas as he let off the clutch, “and I also know a little bit about inertia.” The Jeep sped forward and Mac held on to the dash as he lurched forward with the sudden acceleration. </p><p>“Good one.” Mac admitted and offered up a fist bump.  Jack reciprocated and moved his hand toward the volume knob to crank the radio’s next awkward but hilarious joke on them, <i>Classical Gas</i>. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am so sorry. I am sorry I wrote over 3000 words about poop. I don't know what's wrong with me. I had an itch and I scratched it, and now there's a story about poop. and it's not my first one either! that's the worst part. I'm sorry.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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